


It May Be a House but it Ain't a Home

by SioDymph



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fiddleford closure, Fluff, Gen, Just a quick little snippet, Loneliness, gotta have a nice happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8516416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SioDymph/pseuds/SioDymph
Summary: Fiddleford's trying to settle into to his new home in the former Northwest Manor. But he just can't seem to get use to suddenly living in such a fancy and empty place...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've always had this headcanon that there's no way Fiddleford would want to live in the big old mansion all by his lonesome. So I finally got around to writing a snippet about it.
> 
> Also I gotta be honest, I wrote this as a way to help me calm down after the U.S. elections. But regardless I hope you enjoy this as well.

For Fiddleford's entire childhood he was surrounded by family. Out on the farm it was always a full house of brothers, and sisters, cousins, Aunts and Uncles. Hell, even folks his Pa hired to help manage the farm were always invited to live with them. The old farm house, besides any barns, was the only building for miles and miles around. And at night the front porch lights would shine out like a beacon, inviting in any stranger or traveler who needed a place to stay for the night. His family had always valued sincere southern hospitality, to welcome anyone with open arms, no matter who they were or where they were heading. And it had always stuck with Fiddleford, to be kind no matter what, and to always leave the door open.

It may have been crowded at times, and privacy may have been a foreign concept. But at the end of the day it was something that made Fiddleford feel safe. Everyone was together and everyone was welcome. It was home.

All through this life, leaving for college and far beyond that Fiddleford was never quite able to capture the all-encompassing feeling of home. Though, each place he lived at wasn't all bad. Each had their good qualities and find experiences in Fiddleford's eyes. Even his old shed in the Junkyard.

The first day when he'd moved in had felt like a dream. Spending years out in the junkyard, finally accepting his memories, surviving an appocolypse all to end up in a castle of a house made him feel like it was all a dream come true. That he just might of found his happy ending.

But that night as he tried to sleep on fine satin sheets, Fiddleford couldn't deny the sadness and loneliness he felt settle into his chest. For years he had lived with practically nothing, but now living in a mansion it unnervingly still felt the same.

That and he began to feel guilty. He had been homeless, friendless, hopeless for so long. And now suddenly it seemed like he was given everything he'd ever dreamed of and then some. He hated how wasteful the manor could be. He had gone so long without nice things or necessities alike and yet now here they all were within the wave of a hand or a walk down a hallway. And it was always so empty feeling, especially since there was just one lone fool attempting to fill such a giant place. At first he thought he would love the space. The big wide ballrooms were perfect for constructing giant mechas indoors. But it was just too much space.

And Fiddleford wasn't sure if it was simply him, but sometimes those empty, looming halls would feel so cold and distraught. As if the ghosts of Northwests past were disgusted that their family had abandoned their Manor to some... To some looney old hillbilly.

He began to wonder if he truly deserved to live in such a beautiful place.

One night while making his near-daily calls to the Stanford and his brother, he finally built up the courage, or perhaps caved in to such disappointment in himself, and told Ford all about his feelings and fears of being in the former Northwest Manor. Stanford being the saving grace he could be on occasion did his best to try and console him. Ford told him how he was indeed deserving of the Manor he bought, and that he was deserving of so much more even, according to him. For all his kindness and dedication to revolutionizing engineering, Stanford claimed that Fiddleford deserved the respect of the entire dimension and beyond.

They were nice words, and they flattered Fiddleford greatly but he still felt melancholic.

"That's awfully kind of ya, really Stanford. But I just don't know if I can get myself to believe it all. I thought I'd be happy here but it's just so... Empty."

"Then fill it up." Stanford replied simply while smiling. "With family, robots, whatever you like. Because you do deserve that Manor, Fiddleford, and you of all people deserve to be happy."

Stanley piped up too. "Yeah! Who ever said you gotta stay there alone? It's your house, not those dumb, snotty Northwest's. Do some redecorating. Tear the whole place down! Do whatever you want!"

So he started out small, he took Stanford up on his suggestions and tried to make amends with his son, and invited him to stay at the manor if he wished. Much to his surprise and delight Tate actually forgave him and always promised to visit on occasion.

That helped fill a large hole within his conscious. But he still couldn't help but feel so small and skittish in his own manor.

Then he took some of Stanley's advice and really did some redecorating. He adored all the original wood work, but everything else, all the over-the-top art pieces, ridiculous heirlooms and relics he put up for sale and donation to museums. And in their place he put up the type of things he enjoyed. Like beautifully detailed blueprints, he framed those in what use to hold some of the Nothwest's old portraits. And he filled the manor with little knick-knacks that reminded him of home. Tate even returned some old family photos which he had enlarged and framed around the manor.

As more time went on, it began to feel more and more like a place of his own, and less like a place he'd simply stumbled into living in. But he still felt rather guilty about having so much space, when there was only him to fill it.

Then one night while researching safe ways for the Stanley and Stanford to travel through the mainland of Iceland, he came upon something that resonating with him. Recently something called Hostels had become a rather popular way to travel cross-country. You could invite folks to stay in your place while they traveled for as long as they needed. While reading over it, Fiddleford couldn't help but think back to what his family would always say. To welcome everyone with open arms, no matter who they were or where they were heading...

So Fiddleford dedicated an entire wing of the manor to be a Hostel. And soon enough folks from all across the country and even outside the states came to stay with him as they made their way up and down and all around the west coast. And he always did his best to try and be as gracious and welcoming of a host as he could be. There were many kind and memorable visitors. Many of them reminded him of the Pines Family, wether it be kind hands that were always trying to help him around the manor, curious explorers wanting to discover the secrets of gravity falls (no matter how much he tried to advise them all against it.), or simply energetic spitfires looking for adventures.

There were a few guests though that always broke his heart, the young kids barely older then 18, or maybe the older folks who were traveling alone. They never said precisely how long they expected to stay, nor even where they were traveling next. Most would never tell the truth but Fiddleford could tell. He after all knew first hand, how unforgiving and hopeless it could feel being out in the world without any friends, family or cash to one's name. He let them stay for as long as they could need and he tried his darnedest to send them off in a good direction with at least a little money in their pockets if they did except it from him.

The year continued and Fiddleford kept the Pines brothers regularly updated on his daily life. As it turned out having a Hostel so close to the mystery shack and lake did wonders for the tourist industry outside of summer. Stan had congratulated him on "managing to keep idiots in town for Soos to suck dry". And Ford was happy to see Fiddleford doing much better in his home, though he mentioned that he hoped Fiddleford was running through background checks on all his guests.

Then in the spring, the rain came down heavily and mudslides began terrorizing the woods. It was frightening to watch even if he and his guests were safe up in their reinforced manor. Just the sight of the landslides mowing down acres of woods made Fiddleford's skin prickle into goosebumps.

Flashes of old memories came to him often of being with Stanford in the shack. That year there had been terrible mudslides too. They had to board up all the doors and windows and put sandbags in front of every single opening. They had gone down into the basement to wait out the worst of the mudslides and Fiddleford had prayed that when they came up that they would still have a home when they did. 

His dear girl Besty came in one night with a whole slew of other raccoons during that time. And Fiddleford let them all in. After all he did the same for humans, why no make his Manor a hostel for raccoons too? As the week continued what started with just raccoons soon included, birds, rabbits, deer, skunks, snakes, badgers, frogs, lizards, gophers, beavers, even some wolves. And along with all the mundane critters, there were gnomes, fairies, a former boy band much to Fiddleford's delight, some awfully tall stick-thin feller, a few unicorns and a whole clan of Manotaurs. He gave a whole wing to them, plus the green houses out back until the woods became safe enough for them once the rainy season ended. Though he promised to always have his doors open to any critters who might like to visit.

Most of the Hostel guests were surprised at first, shocked was probably a better word, but most of them soon grew elated by his new guests seeing as most of them were explorers at heart hoping to catch glimpses of such unheard creatures.

By the time Stanford and Stanley came back, the Fiddleford Manor had transformed. No longer was it an extravagant but empty husk of a mansion, but it had been refilled with life and friendship. It had become a home to Fiddleford. A true home.


End file.
